Potter's Field
by SearingKiss
Summary: The next worse thing to a battle lost is a battle won.


Potter's Field  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine  
  
Note: My very first fic. I'm not going to ask any reviewers to go easy on  
me, constructive crit is what I hope for. Enjoy.  
  
It is sad, what life will do to a man. How it will take a boy and rape his innocence, leaving nothing but the will to finish an unjust task, seen in jaded eyes as the only reason for living. Sad, the way history remembers  
things only in the way humanity wants to look at. Sad, how a delusional young man became the murderer of millions, but was watered down by time to  
be seen as a abused, lost, young child whose adult years of death and  
terror were a mere misfortune. Sad, how a hero's deeds are seen in a  
different light, where the many he sacrificed are seen instead of the millions he saved. Sad, how the one who brought down the greatest evil too  
ever exist is remembered as the cause of the death of thousands in his  
attempt to save them.  
  
October thirty-first is more than just a holiday in the Magical Universe,  
at least to some. Some, who remember a different time. It had been many years, though, since that last Halloween, and there were not many left who  
could, and even fewer who would tell the story of how a young man  
sacrificed himself for a cause he would never be apart of.  
  
The years had passed on and on, and life was good, for most. In times of peace it is hard to remember the bloodshed of yesteryears. Children ran and played while their parents watched with love in their eyes. The sun rose and hugged the earth, and the moon kissed her goodnight, and dreams were  
good, sleep was sound. But shadows never really leave. For without darkness, there would be no light. You don't have to be aware of the pain and the suffering, but it is there none the less, going on in places no one  
cares enough to look.  
  
One lone man, leaning heavily on a black cane panted to catch his breath as  
he stood at the top of the highest peak of the mounts, remembered. His peppery hair blew into his sharp onyx eyes as he surveyed the valley below him. It had been over fifty years since he had last come to this hallow, that night which was both an ending and a beginning. It was somehow right,  
he though, that the war should have ended here. As he turned his eyes toward the towering iron archway, an exert from a book he once read briefly entered his mind. "It was as if the mountain had separated two atmospheres, and they had just entered the thunderous one." The clouds seemed to darken  
and gather around this place, trapping all pain and suffering inside. Steeling his nerves, he shivered as he pushed the rusting gates open, and  
the cold wind that blew all year chilled his skin right through his billowing black robes. Rubbing his prickly skin he looked around the vast plain in front of him, so different from the first time he had come here,  
before the iron arch had gone up, warning others away. There had been flowers then, lilies and daffodils that laughed at life and its follies. The air had been warm, and love radiated from the stately house that rose up behind the fields. How long ago that must have been, for now it seemed as if all the darkness in the world gathered here, just waiting for the one who kept it inside to leave, so it could plague the world once more. Wooden  
crosses by the thousands rose up where the flowers once grew, nameless Death Eaters laying next to some of the greatest war heroes. The once regal  
house looked forlornly over it all, dark and dreary, as the lone soul  
worked his way through the graves.  
  
The man swallowed thickly as he laid a gnarled palm against the crumbling door, knowing the door would open at his touch. He shuddered as he entered the doorway, the echoes of a child's laughter seemed to sweep across the  
foyer with the swirling ice wind before turning to the ghosts of pain filled dying screams. His robes brushed the dust as he made his way up the old stairs, leaving a single pair of footprints in the dust that had not  
been unsettled for years.  
  
The top room would have been grand, once. With stained glass windows and music as couples flew across the dance floor, a mother's laughter as her young son awkwardly claimed her for his dance partner. For a minute, the man could almost see a bright ruby haired young woman swinging her emerald- eyed child through the air to an imaginary tune as her messy haired husband looked on. Yes, it would have been wonderful once. Perhaps, if things had been different, the boy would have come back, and added his own story to the room. Perhaps he and his lover would have adopted a child of their own,  
a little girl with auburn hair . . .  
  
The stained glass windows, once so beautiful, were shattered, allowing the bitter wind to reach into the very soul of any who entered. A single high- backed chair sat in the center of the room, overlooking the vast expanse of  
graves. The black robed man stood tall and silent, waiting.  
  
"I know every single name." The words were a ghost of a whisper, snatched  
up on the wind. The waiting man stayed silent. The chair creaked a bit before the slim shadow of what could have been a great man slowly turned  
his head.  
  
"Why did you come here, Severus?"  
  
"I think you know, Harry." Severus Snape's voice was steady and quiet,  
though his hands were trembling.  
  
The other man inclined his head. "I didn't think it would take you this  
long. Though you were always stubborn."  
  
"You can't stay here forever."  
  
The shadows danced on his face as Harry lifted the corner of his lips. "I  
know. It shouldn't be long now."  
  
Severus exhaled, though it was more like a sob. "Come with me."  
  
The chair left lines in the thick layer of dust as Harry stood; giving Severus got his first look at the other man in over five decades. The right  
side of his face was covered by iron colored hair, hiding the lightning bolt scar. The visible eye was still the startling emerald green, though  
any sparks of life had long since died. "You know I can't, Severus." He must have seen what the other man was feeling because he continued. "I have to stay . . . " He gestured to the dark landscape below them. "My field of  
death . . . I can't leave anymore. I am their prisoner just as surly as  
they were mine."  
  
Severus jerked his head sharply. "Harry," He choked out, voice thick with  
tears. "It wasn't you."  
  
Harry sighed softly, eyes dry but so full of emotion. "You loved Harry  
Potter once, Severus. I know this. And he loved you too."  
  
Severus shook his head. "No . . . "  
  
Harry exhaled slowly before turning back to the window. "I know you would like to think it isn't true, Sev. I even tired to lie that way too, a long  
time ago." He glanced over his shoulder, smiling darkly. "But there are some things even the most thickheaded Gryffindor can't ignore." Reaching  
one frail hand, he swept his long hair out of his face.  
  
Severus put almost all of his weight on his cane as he looked at the man he  
once loved. "No . . . you can't . . . "  
  
Harry approached him slowly, pulling his hair back across his face, hiding  
the lightning scar, and the one burning scarlet eye.  
  
"It's all right, Sev. I knew the consequences. Dumbledore knew too. It was a sacrifice he . . . we were willing to make." He caressed his old teachers gnarled face softly, almost lovingly. "You knew us both, Sev, you were a  
part of us both. A slave to evil, but in love with someone who had no choice other than good. Surely you must understand better than anyone else  
that this is how it had to be."  
  
Severus shook his head stubbornly, though he knew, somewhere deep inside he always had. Ever since that day, in this very same house, when he had first seen the lightning bolt scar. It was true, that neither could live in the world together, and that Harry had the power to vanquish Voldemort forever. Voldemort could live through Harry; their very souls were intertwined. But  
without him . . .  
  
"Why haven't you done it, then?"  
  
Harry shifted his eyes. "I am weak, Severus. I began losing my control over him so many years ago. I am every bit his slave as I am his master. We are chained here, to this defeat. The souls of those who died have barricaded  
his passing, leaving his soul to be tormented as surly as their bodies  
were. And in return he keeps me here as well." His one green eye met  
Severus' own. "He can't leave this place. But he longs to, as much as I  
wish to have lived a full life. There truly are some things worse than  
death. But he has to be punished. And for that to be, so do I."  
  
Severus shook his head resolutely. "You don't deserve this, Harry. You  
never . . . "  
  
Harry sighed and placed a small hand over Severus' lips. "I failed them, Severus. The next worse thing to a battle lost is a battle won. I may have  
saved millions but I led thousands to their doom, and no matter what my intentions may have been, I will carry the burden of their souls on my back  
as surly as Tom Riddle does."  
  
Severus took a deep breath. "Is there any way too . . . "He trailed off,  
knowing that Harry knew what he was asking, and knowing Harry knew they  
both knew the answer.  
  
"Death holds promises of peace I can not fathom. But here in life I will serve my time, because his evil outweighed my good." He smiled. "But I will be forgiven. Never forgotten, but I am paying my debts now." He raised his hand to his scar. "And he . . . he too will be forgiven . . . though his purgatory began before we were one . . . he was just a lost man once. And at the end of all things, that is what he always was. Death will provide the answers to everything, and there will be no light, and no dark. We will  
be the same, as we were made, and there will be peace. But purification comes first." He sighed again and stared off towards the iron gates in the distance. "I long for freedom, Severus, and I long to love you again." He  
reached out and squeezed the hand that was clutched the cane. "My time  
draws near, Sev, and his. I look forward to it. But I will never be  
completely at peace till you are there with me." He ran his hand up Severus' arm, stopping right over the Dark Mark. "Death won't erase life,  
but it will give it forgiveness. That is all I can ask for."  
  
Severus nodded, one solitary tear trembling on the edge of his eyelid. Harry turned to him and smiled. "Don't cry, Sev. I'll be there with open arms one day, even if I can't give you my heart in return for yours today,  
for my heart is not mine alone. It won't be long now, till I am free of  
Riddle, free of my field of death."  
  
In reflection, Severus thought, as he left the archway behind him, he had  
known all along that Harry would never be able to give anymore in this  
life. But, he supposed, he had needed assurances that there would be someone waiting for him, that he would be the one to finally give Harry the love he deserved, even if it wasn't in this world. He glanced one last time  
at the iron archway, and finally let his tear fall.  
  
Potter's Field, the iron letters spelled the world. It was cruel, but not  
eternal. 


End file.
